He put a hand on the back of her head as he felt her breathing quicken and shoulders shake

Finn was round the back of the airport now, could see it spread towards the high road he’d taken earlier with Ingrid. This was the sea he could hear and smell last night, the bay next to the airfield. This was the way Maddie came as she strode from the wreckage. There was no security anywhere. Finn got out the car and walked to the edge of the airfield. The wind blasted his face as he pulled a woolly hat down over his ears and thrust his hands into his jacket pockets.

A four-foot fence was all that separated the airport from the surrounding land, bedraggled wires strung between posts that hugged the coast along a rocky outcrop. He approached a gate, mud squelching under his trainers on the rough track. Three signs were tied to the gate with cable ties similar to the restraints he’d had round his wrists and ankles.

Emergency Exit, Keep Clear, written in black on yellow. No Public Access Beyond This Point, a red circle with a diagonal line through it. And last, a flimsy blue cardboard sign that read Kirkwall Airport Bylaws Apply Beyond This Point. Finn wondered what those bylaws were.

Don’t get involved in a plane crash? Don’t cause seven deaths? Don’t leave a crime scene? Don’t help someone you hardly know evade the police?

Suspicious

He put his hands on the metal of the gate just to feel the cold of it against his skin, then went back to the car, nodding at the dog walker on the beach. He turned the car and headed back up the hill, this time at a crawl, peering out the windscreen at each farm building.

From this direction he noticed the red corrugate diron door that Maddie had described. He nudged the car into the nearest passing place, switched the engine off and sat thinking.

He couldn’t just drive up to a cowshed. What if the farmer was inside? But he needed to get Maddie into the car without being seen.

He got out and walked towards the barn as if he knew what he was doing. He went straight into the building without looking round, thinking that would seem suspicious. The place smelled ripe and sour, dung and animal. Cows shuffled in their enclosures, their breath billowing from their noses. He got his phone out and called her number. Three rings then he hung up, like they agreed.

She stepped out from a stall at the end of the shed. She was silhouetted against the light from the other entrance as she came towards him. He felt excited and sick, a little dizzy. She had the same sway to her walk, her bag slung over her shoulder.

“You came.”

“I said I would.”

She grabbed him and held on in a hug. The smell of her hair came to him through the musty air of livestock and hay. He put a hand on the back of her head as he felt her breathing quicken and shoulders shake. “It’s OK,” he said. She lifted her head. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Finn looked around. They were exposed here, large doorways at either end. “We should go.”

He led her along the length of the shed then signalled for her to stop at the entrance. He went out a few feet and looked around. The Skoda was 30 yards down the road. Beyond that another car was starting up the hill from the car park. The dog walker. Finn ducked inside the barn till it was past, then took Maddie by the hand and walked to the car. He unlocked it and opened the boot. “Get in.”

Shrugged

Maddie looked at him. Finn nodded at the horizon. “There are roadblocks. I went through one on the way here.” Maddie threw her bag in and squeezed into the tight space. Finn stood holding the boot. “Can I trust you?” she said. “You have to.”

He closed the boot and got in the driver’s seat. He wasn’t used to being in charge. He swung the car out of the passing place, hyper-aware of the vehicle’s motion, how it must feel in the boot.

He nipped through town then south, back the way he’d come. The same cop on the road flagged him and he slowed, then stopped and wound his window down.

“Got your gran’s messages,” she said, nodding at the plastic bags in the passenger seat. “Yeah.” “Took you a while.”

Finn shrugged. There would be witnesses if she asked, plenty of people had seen him walking up and down the aisles.

“On you go,” the officer said. “And take it easy on the barriers. The wind’s up, they might be getting closed today.”

The engine crunched as Finn fumbled with the gearstick then got going, heading over the hill towards South Ronaldsay, wiping the sweat from his palms on to his jeans.

He drove the Skoda into the visitor centre car park and pulled up next to the entrance. The car park was empty except for the Tomb of the Eagles van, large brown logo on its side.

The Lewises used it in the summer, but it just sat here when they were away. He got out and opened the boot. Maddie blinked and squinted in the light, held a hand up to shield her eyes.

“Are you OK?” he said. She held her hand out. “Lucky I’m not claustrophobic.”

Finn looked around as he helped her out of the boot. The visitor centre was halfway between the tomb and Ingrid’s cottage, but there was enough of a slope before the headland that Ingrid wouldn’t be able to see them here.

“Come on,” he said. He led her to the doorway and fumbled some keys out of his pocket. Opened the mortice and Yale, punched the alarm into the box and went in.

“The Tomb of the Eagles?” Maddie said.

“You know it?”

“I was here years ago with Kev.”

Safest place

Her face clouded over as Finn shut the door behind them. His phone rang. Ingrid. He declined the call.

“You’ll be safe here,” he said, leading Maddie into the main room. The visitor centre was three rooms of exhibits built on to the side of the Lewises’ home.

With them away and no tours booked it was the safest place Finn could think of. His first idea of Maddie staying in the actual tomb was crazy. She needed sleep, warmth, food, a working toilet. Finn’s phone buzzed in his pocket, Ingrid again. Maddie ran a hand along a thigh bone sitting on a display bench. “How do you have keys to this place?” “My gran looks after it while the owners are away.” “And the owners are away?”

Finn nodded. “For the next couple of months. They spend the winters somewhere hot.”

“But the tomb is still open?” “Appointment only. We hardly ever get tour groups this time of year. If we get any I’ll know in advance. I’ll check with Ingrid.”

“Ingrid?”

“My gran.”

More tomorrow.

Crash Land is published by Faber, paperback priced £7.99. dougjohnstone.co.uk